Return to Camelot, Jeffrey Allen White [red scrolls of magic TXT] 📗

I will try harder.” Elizabeth bowed her head in respect and left the room. Mother Abbess walked over to the window.

“Oh, Elizabeth, if it were that simple, to try to do our best.” Mother Abbess went back to the door and out into the corridor. She passed several sisters on her way, acknowledging them with a nod or a smile. Sister Anne and Sister Helena were scrubbing the stone steps as she passed the chapel. She passed the kitchen and the storerooms. The sister’s cells were all located in the lower part of the convent. Mother Abbess’ cell was there also. All the sister’s cells were the same. There were not any privileged sisters here. They were all equal in the eyes of God.

Finally, Mother Abbess arrived at her cell. They all looked the same but she knew this was hers as it had been so the last ten years.

Opening the heavy door, she went inside and sat on her small bed. Looking around the room, she thought of the world she had come from. The riches and luxuries were greater than most of these nuns and novices had ever seen or even dreamed. Her life complete with many privileges, young girls like Elizabeth had only heard of in stories.

Mother Abbess stood looking out the small window in the stoned wall. It was very small but enough to see the land outside. The rolling hills and trees covered the grounds in all directions. It had reminded her of her home in England, her family and of her husband.

The abbey bells announced their evening prayers. The sisters had all retired to their cells for the night. Mother Abbess felt relieved this day was over. There was so much to do. Three elderly sisters were very ill and they needed constant attention. A milk cow had developed a sore on its’ leg and it had to be treated with much care. The potato field infested with a strange insect, one that ate the leaves thus depriving nourishment to the crop.

The Abbess removed her wimple, allowing her hair to fall from its cap. It was short now, much shorter than she had worn it as a young girl. However, its’ color was the same, a deep rich auburn that sparkled with the light of the sun.

She had worn her hair very long then. It was curly and her husband had loved the way it fell on her shoulders. He always commented on it. When she became a novitiate, she had it cut, as it was what all nuns did when they entered. They did away with all their earthly belongings and reminders. Their life was now God’s and a full head of hair would only get in the way.

The final bells sounded off. The Abbess had changed into her sleeping gown. It was a plain simple white linen gown with no frills or lace. Sometimes she missed her old clothes. They were all very beautiful and composed from the finest silks and cloth from around the world.

She sometimes even wondered what she looked like now. It was not pious to be vain but still she could not help think of how she had changed all these years. When she was down by the stream where they collected fresh water for cooking and cleaning, she would catch a glimpse of her reflection in the water as it was often rippled and not tranquil enough to gain any perspective.

She had been the Mother Abbess now for almost two years. She was young but a severe winter and illness killed almost half of the convent nuns leaving the young more able to take over the task when the elderly Mother Abbess died of sickness.

The convent council of nuns, who administrated the daily affairs of upkeep, voted her to replace the deceased sister. Her hard work and dedication along with her pious and repentant nature made her an obvious choice of leader.

Sometimes she had wondered had she not accepted but then who dares to defy God and His infinite wisdom and judgment? Her quest to enter the convent and being a child and servant of God, had taken the position with humbleness.

The last rays of the sun had fallen below the mountains in the distance. The Abbess stared at the stars that began to appear. She looked at her wimple and clothing which were neatly folded on her chair. She looked around her cell and of the sparse furnishings. How odd it felt to her and yet how comfortable. Even her name or what she was to be called, Mother Abbess of the Sisters of Serenity was peaceful and tranquil. She whispered her name she which was given at birth. It felt strange but made her smile. Again, she said it this time louder. “Guinevere”.


Chapter 5

Arthur could hear people around him. However, he could not see them. They were speaking about him. Arthur tried to move, to open his eyes. His limbs were useless. He could not move anything or feel anything.

He heard several servants scurrying about the room. He knew he was in his chambers. He could sense that. He was in his bed and someone was attending to him, making him comfortable or so tried.

“What is this? Why can’t I move?” Arthur panicked and with all his strength tried to move something, anything. He wished he could see what was going on around him. He felt dizzy and lightheaded.

A servant was washing his forehead with a wet cloth. He could feel the water trickle down his face. It felt cool. He must have a fever. He must be ill. They were nursing him. That is what they were doing.

Arthur could feel his body, not in the sense that he felt movement but that he had form and shape. He could sense he was clean and dressed in a gown and propped up in his bed. His arms crossed over his chest as if lying in state. He could feel he was clean-shaven. The breeze from the open windows fell across his face.

One of the servants had come closer to look at him. He could fell her breath on his face. He could hear her breathing. “The poor man, I wish there was more I could do for him. He took my family in after our village burned down when I was just a girl.” The servant brushed some stray hair off Arthur’s forehead.

“I feel that! I can feel that! Someone help me!” Arthur thought his heart would burst from this frustration.

The servant again sponged his forehead with a damp cloth. “I wonder how long he will survive. It’s been two days since we found him.” The servant spoke to another in the room.

“He’s bewitched, I say. The way that they found him and all, I say he has been bewitched!” A guard had just entered into the room. He had been standing outside the whole night keeping watch over the dying king.

Arthur realized he was alive but for all they knew, he was dying. He had to speak to them. To let them know he was alive. He commanded all his strength and abilities and tried to move anything.

The servant gasped in horror. “Look, he’s opened his eyes!”

“There, I have made them notice. They will see me now. Why can’t I see them? Where are you? Someone help me!” There was something wrong. He had opened his eyes. He could feel them open, but he did not see anything.

“His eyes, look, they’re open. See if he is awake”, the servant said.

The guard brought his face closer to the king. “He is breathing but still as shallow as before.”

“Open the window, let more light in, maybe it will do something.” The guard opened the window letting in the afternoon sunshine.

Arthur could feel the warm sun on his face. He could feel it on his eyes. They were open. “But why can I not see?” Arthur used every ounce of strength but nothing moved and he could feel his eyelids open but he was blind!

“We must send for someone.” The girl said to the guard.

“All the knights are gone. There are just a few servants and guards left. We have no other place to go.” The guard spoke the truth.

The castle was almost deserted. The knight’s of the round table either been killed or had disappeared these last ten years. There were no more knights to stand alongside Arthur.

Arthur knew this. He had sent the few remaining knights off to search for Lancelot. They never returned. They either died in battle or have deserted him. “So this is what death is to be for me.”

The servant touched the king’s cheek. Arthur could feel that. If only he could make her realize he was still here, still able to hear her and feel her touch.

“What’s with his hand?’ The guard noticed something odd. His hands were swollen and had been bruised. He went over to get a closer look.

“No one knows for certain. When we found him, he had blood streaming from his eyes and his hand was scratched and bloody also and clenched tightly. It was if he was in a battle.”

“Battle? Yes, a battle, a battle with evil.” Arthur remembered his visit with the figure. The figure had turned out to be Merlin. He had spoken with him. He was under the power of a shrew and had come to warn him... Merlin! My God! You told me about a son. You said I have a son!” Arthur could feel the disk in his closed hand grow warmer.

“This is what you gave me Merlin. The disk. You said I was to use it to save the boy. Nevertheless, where is he? How can I find him when I can’t even move or see?” The disk became hotter and hotter and it felt as though it would burn his hand.

“Look, the king’s hand.” The servant and guard noticed light shinning through the clenched hand of the king. “What is it?” The guard tried to touch the disk.

“Aaahhh”, he cried out. The glowing disk was not only hot but it burned his fingers as he touched Arthur’s hand. But how could that be? The kings’ hand, although unmoving had no burns of any kind.

“We must find help. We must find someone who can help the king. Surely, King Arthur is under a spell!” The guard looked at the servant and back to Arthur. The servant wrapped the guards’ hand in a wet cloth.

“There, they will help me now. They must!” Arthur could feel the disk warm in his hand. It pulsated and its’ warmth